


Neverending Nightmare

by RandomFlancusEpicness



Series: The Sinful Saints [1]
Category: Boondock Saints (Movies)
Genre: Angst, Annabelle's POV, Brother/Brother Incest, Conphy-freeform, Dark, Depression, Drinking, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Explicit Language, Flandus - Freeform, M/M, No Smut, Past, Twincest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-07
Updated: 2015-02-07
Packaged: 2018-03-10 23:53:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,810
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3307886
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RandomFlancusEpicness/pseuds/RandomFlancusEpicness
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Red. All she can see is red. And she's deaf again. Suddenly, she's freezing, but something warms her up inside. It's kinda good and comforting, but she still doesn't know what's going on... and then, the clouds in front of her eyes are gone and she can see everything."</p><p>Annabelle MacManus has two fears: alcohol and her sons' too close relationship.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Neverending Nightmare

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first English fanfiction, and when it came to my mind, I knew I had to write it. I was always thinking that if Connor and Murphy are really together and Annabelle knows about them... what does she think? Is she okay with it or not? Here's my idea about her opinion.  
> AAAAAAAAAND my English sucks. AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAND I asked for some help on tumblr, but there was none, so please, forgive me for grammatic and/or other mistakes. If you find something that doesn't fit, please tell me, so I can correct it. Thank you.  
> Plus, I wanna continue this series (although I barely have time), so if someone could help me out, I'd be over the moon. If not, then it's going to be a one-shot.  
> In this story, Annabelle is around 40-45 and the boys are 17 years old. If you don't like twincest and/or brocest, please, turn around NOW. You have been warned.

Annabelle Higgins grew up in a small Irish village, near to Waterford. Her mother name was Kerry and her father's was Ennis. They had a little sheep farm but made money from selling vegetables and clothes, sewed by Kerry. The mother enjoyed playing with the needle, making neat dresses and/or plushies for little Anna. The girl loved them, even though they were kind of poor made and sometimes stingy because of the textile material Kerry was working with was far away from the best. There were days, when Annabelle went out to help her father with the sheep. She always got dirty but she didn't care; she loved animals, even talked to them. First, Ennis thought she was crazy, maybe she had a mental illness, but Kerry denied it, so after a few years Ennis got used to it.

So yeah, even though the monster of the poorness was always behind her back, Annabelle Higgins loved her life. She loved everything in it.

Except one thing.

Annabelle didn't know it's name; it was the Devil himself for her.  It was  _red_ , but sometimes pale yellow, or maybe it didn't have any color; it looked like water, fresh and cold, waiting for someone to drink it. But it had a taste like fire: burning you deep inside, mark you, wound you,  _kill_ you... and the feeling you had... the world spins, some evil demon grabs you by your heart, hurts you, telling you what to do. Alcohol was bad, Annabelle said always. Alcohol  _is_  bad.

But Ennis liked alcohol. The little Annabelle heard stories about drunk fathers, hitting their loved ones, make them hurt -  _no... it was the demon... the demon did it_  -, and it doesn't matter if they're screaming, begging for stop... it's like pouring oil on the fire. The tears are the worst. It makes the demon angry. He doesn't like them. Or maybe he  _does_ like them, it's some kind of ecstasy for him, a drug, which he needs desperately. And the scars he makes, on the soul, on the body, the pain, the insaneness...

No. Ennis could never do that. He wasn't like them.

Ennis Higgins liked alcohol, yes; but he'd never hit anyone. He was a kind man, intelligent, sometimes naive, but too... serious. He didn't like jokes. He never understood them. When he was drunk, he just sat in silence, drinking his whiskey... Annabelle hated that Ennis. That  _thing_ was never his father. It's not like that he'd done anything wrong, just... it wasn't him. That's what the little Annabelle didn't like. The silence. Ennis spoke a lot but the alcohol made him quiet. You never knew what was on his mind. Was someone talking to him? Like to the other fathers? He just tried to ignore it? Did he fight against it? Were there any voices, after all?

Annabelle never found that out. One morning Kerry and Annabelle couldn't find him: but there was the smell of death and the Irish whiskey they bought for Ennis's birthday. And don't forget about the squeaking sound from above. Annabelle knew what happened. They found Ennis body hanging there like a bag of vegetables they used to sell. First, Annabelle though he was flying over some shiny, glorious thing... but she realized what was that. The Devil's weapon. Transparent, cold, hard and evil.  _So evil._

That was the moment Annabelle started to hate alcohol with all her desperate. But one night something changed her life and her thinking.

This one night, Annabelle MacManus – she used to have a husband, the father of her two beautiful sons but they've divorced - sits in a Catholic church, alone, on the third bench. She tilts her head down, thinking about her house and family; she only has those two boys, who are now at home, planning some new prank for their classmates... or at least Annabelle hopes that's what they're doing. She wipes away a tear escaping from her eye, and quickly crosses herself. She needs help. Needs someone, who can protect her, to save her from this life... because it's too much. She can't take it anymore.

 

One day, she went to the drugstore to buy some sleeping pills. She saw the worried look the shop assistant gave her, watching Annabelle's bags under her blue and dead eyes, the trembling lips, the wrinkled skin. But Annabelle ignored her. When she got the pills, she paid, and technically ran out from the store. In the evening, she took twelve pills. The boys weren't home yet, so she could easily lay down with no one disturbing. She closed her eyes, prayed to God, to  _anyone_ , who can take her away from there...  _just be quick. Before the boys return. They don't wanna see this. They can live together in happiness... don't make me see them. They don't... they have to live. I just... too much... too..._

.

..

...

"Ma!"

_The voice... oh, so familiar. So sweet. So afraid.  Don't be afraid, my son. Never. Just let me go._

"Murph, get yer stupid ass in here! Ma's sick!"

_Please, son... go away. Let me rest in peace. I want to go. I need to go._

"Tha hell?! Ma! Wake up, Ma!"

_Too loud... don't cry, my boy. It's okay. Everything is fine. Stop the tears, please. It's... unnecessary._

"...Annabelle MacManus. Yeah... I don' know, asshole! Found her in her bed an' she doesn' wake up! What do we do?"

_Nothing, love. It's over now. It's over._

_...No._

After three days, Annabelle MacManus woke up in a hospital bed. She felt dizzy and she had to puke... but she held in. She looked around the tiny room, and all she saw was white and some blue and... black.

And the black smudge became two, reaching her screamingly, then hugged her lovingly and carefully and Annabelle couldn't help but hugged back. She felt tears but they weren't her own.

"...Ma," Murphy MacManus's sobbed. His voice was a mixture of weak, tired and worried emotion. "Finally, ya..."

"Shhh..." Annabelle said and patted her son's head. "Don' be sad, boy. 'm gonna be just fine."

"What happened?" heard her other son, Connor MacManus. He cried, too, even though he hated to. Tried to show no weakness, for his brother and for his mother. But now then, he couldn't help it.

Annabelle didn't look at them. She closed her eyes and waited for the boys to leave her alone. Minutes after, she heard Connor telling Murphy that their mother needed a rest. Murphy didn't say anything.

She woke up again at one a.m., finding Connor sitting on a chair next to her, with Murphy in his lap, who was sleeping soundly. Connor held his twin tightly, whispering something in French into the back of his neck, only stop to breath. Annabelle watched them carefully, how Connor's thumb caressed Murphy's long fingers, how he pressed his lips against his other half's hair... Annabelle felt her heart broke and a tear rolled down on her cheek. She sniffled; the sound was heard by Connor and the boy turned his gaze to his mother immediately. Annabelle saw something shining in her son's eyes but it was too dark to see what it was actually.

Connor opened his mouth to say something but Annabelle was faster.

"How's yer brother?" she asked.

Connor looked at Murphy, who stayed still and didn't wake up. "Better," he answered after a few moments. "He hasn' slept much in tha past few days... he was worried sick," Connor hugged his twin even tighter. "He wanted ta stay awake but I told him ta sleep. An' he actually did," the boy smiled sadly. "'m sure he won' wake up 'til noon... it's tha best."

Annabelle sighed. Few days... how long was she passed out? A week, maybe? Even more? She didn't remember anything, just the moment, when Connor called the ambulance. But how long has it been...?

"Ma...?"

The woman looked at his son again but Connor hid his face in the crook of Murphy's neck. Annabelle heard him inhale loudly.

"Aye, Connor?"

Connor didn't answer, just seconds after. "What happened? An' ya better give me a fuckin' answer."

Yeah... Connor was just like that. Stubborn like a fucking mule. Annabelle knew that. He wasn't gonna let it go. Actually, no one will say "Okay, let's move on, shit happens," after your mother tries to commit suicide.

But no. Connor can shout, break things, he can even hit her... but no, Annabelle won't give him that. It's her secret and she can't talk about it. Even though it'd be the best, because it's her son's matter, too.

So, she just inhaled slowly, then said, "Forget 'bout it, Connor. It's done. I'll be better now. Just some shite happened. Don' worry 'bout it."

"Ya tried ta kill yerself, because o' some shite?" Connor voice was angry then.

_This is going to be a long night._

Annabelle didn't like being questioned. If she wanted to talk, then she would. But not then. She just wanted his son to stop asking ridiculous questions and leave her the fuck alone.

"It's none o' yer business, Connor," she lied. "Just take care o' yer brother, like ya always do."

Even if Connor heard the sarcasm in her mother voice's, he didn't show reaction, and honestly, Annabelle wouldn't give a shit. She turned on her side, facing away from his boys and tried to go back to sleep.

But just before she fell into the void of dreams and nightmares, she heard Connor's voice in the dark: "Ya think ya know everything but believe me, ya don't know shite."

_Oh, please, don't be so naive, sweetheart. I do know everything._

 

It happened weeks ago, and the MacManus family tried to forget about it. Murphy was smiling again, when the doctors send Annabelle home, saying she was perfectly fine, just a bit frustrated, but Connor's eyes showed mistrust and even disgust. Annabelle avoided the looks he gave her, acted like nothing was wrong but she never left the house. The Anvil she worked in was closed for a while, because it needed some restoration, and Bartley Walsh, the owner of the pub said that Annabelle can stay at home as long as she wanted to. And that's what Annabelle wanted for a long time.

This is the first time she left the house for days. She needed to get away from there. Maybe she'll go home in the morning. Or go for a walk. But the church always gives her comfort and keeps her safe. It's her  _real_  home, not that poor lair she hated so much because of the sounds and the voices...

"My, my... what did our Lord send in this lately hour?"

Annabelle jumps and turns around to see the owner of the voice. She notices an old priest in the doorway, smiling at her. It's Father Kennedy. He came from America twenty years ago but Annabelle doesn't know why. He never liked talking about his past.

The woman stands up. "'m sorry, Father," she starts hesitantly. "Didn' mean no harm... just wanted quiet an' peace fer a lil'."

The priest smiles and walks towards Annabelle. "That's understandable, my dear. May I sit next to you? I can't really sleep and I'm bored on this lonely night."

Annabelle doesn't answer, just nods and sits back. Father Kennedy sits down with a quiet groan; he has some spine problems and his back always hurts, even because of the lightest moves.

They sit in silent for a while, just praying to God: Annabelle for her life to get better and Father Kennedy for his insomnia. Annabelle doesn't want to talk; she hopes that maybe the father will leave her alone in a few minutes... but she's wrong.

"How are you doing nowadays, Anna?" the priest asks, tilting his head up. "Haven't seen you in a while; thought maybe you're ill or worse."

Annabelle chuckles so silently, Father Kennedy doesn't hear. "Aye, somethin' like dat." she says briefly, still hoping the priest will leave.

Unfortunately, Father Kennedy has other things in his mind. "Sorry to hear. I hope you feel better now..." after a few moments, he continues. "The boys haven't told me anything. When I asked them, they said it's a long story... don't get me wrong, dear Anna, I don't want to peddle gossip, just... I'm just worried about you."

But Annabelle doesn't hear the end of the priest's monologue; she only hears "the boys". Fear rushes trough her body and she can't help, but shivers. "They... they were here?"

"Of course!" Father Kennedy smiles, but he looks a bit surprised. "Every morning, as always. They're acting a bit strange lately - well, to be honest, they're acting strange since... well, you know."

_Oh, yes. I know. I remember perfectly, although I don't want to._

"They're so quiet..." the priest sighs. "I remember, when Murphy tried to ruin the Mass... said he was just bored," Father Kennedy looks at Anna. "I never have thought I'd miss those times."

Annabelle swallows. "Are ya tryin' ta point somethin' ta out, father?" she asks sharply.

"...no," Father Kennedy answers after a few seconds. "I'm just wondering... if everything is okay."

_What do you want to know, asshole? I can tell you everything. Do you know what it felt like two years ago, when I found that... that THING in Connor's bed?! And the smell? I shouldn't have let them stay in the same room... they were always rotten. Even when they were kids. Sticking together, talking in their own language that I could never understand... want to know more, eh? WANT TO KNOW MORE?!_

...

"Everythin's just fine, father," Annabelle tells him. "No need ta worry."

"That's not what I see, dear."

Annabelle tries to keep calm. But it's hard, so hard. She wants to tell everything to the priest; maybe he can help. Maybe he has some ideas. She'd be okay with exorcism, too, if that solves the problem. Yes, Father Kennedy has to know some tricks for this... nonsense. She can trust him.  _I can trust him. I can trust_   _him_.

And in this moment, Annabelle starts to cry. Her head falls into her hands, the tears are escaping from her eyes desperately: and suddenly, quick, like a thunderbolt, the silent church is full of groans, sobs and screams.

She feels gentle hand on her shoulders and she can't help, but leans towards the warmth. She barely hears the quiet whispers, she doesn't know what does the older man say... she only hears her painful voice echoing the huge and cold walls. Annabelle's is begging; begging for stop, begging for freedom and begging for death to come.

It feels like it'll never stop... she's louder and louder, her thin and weak fingers grip the priest's cloth and she can feel her heart being torn out by something invisible and dark and evil... she hears the Devil laughing at her and it's too much, she can't take it,  _please, it's too much, stop, please..._

 "...an' they're sick an' full o' sin, tha voices, oh, me Lord in tha Heaven, tha voices I hear, tha moans, tha squeakin', an' I saw them once, tha naked, sweaty skin, tha blood, tha bites an' tha touches, tha gripping an' Christ, tha way they look like after that, tha sin shining in their eyes, tha disgustin' smiles an' I see, I smell, I  _feel_  the lust everywhere in tha house an' I hate ta live with it, please, ya need ta stop it, I can', I don', 'm not... "

.

..

...

... _?_

Everything is quiet. Annabelle doesn't hear anything. Is she deaf? The Lord punishes her because of what she just told the priest? Is she... is  _she_  the bad one? Does she really deserve this? What has she done? What... what happened? Why...?

Suddenly, Father Kennedy stands up. He doesn't move for a moment, just staring hollowly into the emptiness. Annabelle swallows, again. "Father...?"

The priest looks like he doesn't hear her... and then, he walks away, into one of the church's room and slams the door behind him. Annabelle is trembling.

After a minute or two, the door opens and Annabelle think she's never seen Father Kennedy so angry before: his bold head is red, almost purple in the poor light, his lips moving almost unnoticeable and his right hand holds something black.

The woman stands up and calls in a weak voice after him. "Father... father, what...?"

"DON'T YOU DARE STOP ME, ANNABELLE MACMANUS!"

The voice is mad, scary and sounds like God himself: Annabelle feels new tears coming and she approaches the father slowly.

"Please..." she sobs.”What should I do? Help me, father, please... don' leave me..."

"I'm gonna make them pay for this!" Father Kennedy shouts and finally turns around. "It's disrespectful and against the Lord, OUR LORD!" he breaths heavily and points a finger towards Annabelle. "You... you knew about it all along and didn't do anything! I bet you even helped them! The whole family of yours working with Lucifer! You're gonna pay for this, Annabelle! But first... I'll punish them. Then, I'll punish YOU!"

And finally, Annabelle looks down and sees what's in the priest's hand. Her eyes widens and the tears stop. "No... ya can' do dis... ya can'..."

"Just watch me, _Devil_."

And he's outside.

And Annabelle can feel something deep in her heart. Something, she hadn't felt in a long time.

_I won't let you._

_You're the Devil, not me, bastard._

And she runs out, into the night, and she's behind Father Kennedy, but she knows she's too weak, so she turns right and sees what she needs and she smiles, the smile is cold and crazy, but she doesn't care, she grabs the object, lift her arm up and...

...

 _Red._ All she can see is  _red._  And she's deaf again. Suddenly, she's freezing, but something warms her up inside. It's kinda good and comforting, but she still doesn't know what's going on... and then, the clouds in front of her eyes are gone and she can see  _everything._

The body in front of her is  _red_. Her hands are starting to shake and she fights down the urge to puke all over the roses of the church's garden. The shovel is full of blood and the thick liquid is dripping from it. Annabelle releases it and with a loud clashing sound, it falls to the ground. There are no tears; not anymore.

_I won't let you hurt them, asshole. They're mine. My sons, my blood. They're sick, but they don't deserve to die. I'm their mother; I'm going to protect them and I don't care what it costs._

She moves like a machine: crouches, grips the corpse's arms and starts to drag it into the little garden. She knows where to go. It's the only place that could help.

When she reaches the well behind the church, she stands up and wipes the sweat off of her forehead. She goes back to the front of the building, picks up the shovel and cleans it with her handkerchief – even though she knows that if the police finds it, they won’t search for fingerprints, because the town’s too poor to buy those machines - and brings it to the well, too. She drops it down, hearing a cracking sound, when it reaches the bottom. For a moment, she stares into the nothing, then sighs and turns to the still warm corpse.

She knows she doesn't have too much time until dawn, so with all the power she has, she lifts Father Kennedy's body and lay it down on the edge of the well. She can feel a stingy pain in her back, but she tries to ignore it. Then, with a quiet grunt, Annabelle pushes it down and she waits, then - _thwack!_ The sound makes the woman a little bit calmer. She turns around, but doesn't see anyone. The people are sleeping. Annabelle hopes no one woke up to the screams.

She looks down at her coat. It's bloody; not that much, but enough to notice, if she runs into someone in her way to home. Annabelle takes it off of herself and feels relieved a little, because her trousers are clean. She turns the coat inside out carefully, then puts it under her arm.

Annabelle starts to walk home, slowly, because she still doesn't really know what happened. It was too quick... and too easy. She doesn't feel guilty or anything: she knows she'll rot in hell, but she accepts it. She doesn't care about anything, just the safety of her boys.

She knows they're home and prays they're sleeping. It's maybe four in the morning, so what would two teenage boys do in this early hour? Yeah, probably sleeping.

And before she knows she's in front of the old house she lives in with Connor and Murphy. She doesn't hear anything; relief rushes through her body as she sighs and opens the front door.

It's dark, but she can see a little. She drops down her bloody coat on the floor and stops for a moment, looking around the kitchen. She doesn't know, what she's searching for, until she says it aloud:

"I need a drink."

So he goes to one of the cupboards, opening them and searching for the Irish whiskey she got from Bartley. Connor and Murphy decided to save it for their 18th birthday, but in this moment, Annabelle doesn't give a shit. When she finds the bottle, she puts it down the wooden table and sits on a chair next to it. Her head rests in her right hand, while Annabelle's watching the alcohol suspiciously, like she waits for it to attack. After a few minutes, she decides to put it back, and forget about everything what happe...

"Connor!"

Her blood frowns in her veins.

_Please, oh God, please, don't._

And there's moaning, squeaking, and the other voices are back, too; they got too loud, because Annabelle swears she didn't hear them, when she arrived at home. Even if it's upstairs, she can hear them now, burning into her brain, scratching and biting it, like they want to destroy it desperately...

_Please, make it stop. Please... I don't wanna hear it. Stop it, please... I'm begging you, my Lord, please, please, please..._

And before she knows, Annabelle MacManus is crying again, trying to keep it quiet as much as she can. She opens the bottle of whisky, and wasting no time searching for glass, she drinks from it. The alcohol burns, her throat is screaming, but she doesn't stop. Tears dropping onto the old table, wetting it, while Annabelle gives in and let the alcohol control her body.

The alcohol was her enemy. But know it's her only friend that keeps her company and protects her from madness.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed! Comments and kudos are very welcomed! ^_^  
> Again, if you find any kinds of mistakes, please let me know. :)  
> randomflancusepicness.tumblr.com


End file.
